


She spake in her heart

by scrollgirl



Series: Two Roads Diverged [2]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Biracial Character, Community: tww_minis, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-30
Updated: 2006-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:15:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrollgirl/pseuds/scrollgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Ana Maria Dolores Seaborn and her son Samuel Norman Seaborn: a countdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She spake in her heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleloonlost](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=littleloonlost).



> Written for [](http://littleloonlost.livejournal.com/profile)[**littleloonlost**](http://littleloonlost.livejournal.com/) for the [Sam Seaborn round](http://community.livejournal.com/tww_minis/5476.html) of [](http://community.livejournal.com/tww_minis/profile)[**tww_minis**](http://community.livejournal.com/tww_minis/) ([master list](http://community.livejournal.com/tww_minis/8369.html)). [](http://littleloonlost.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://littleloonlost.livejournal.com/)**littleloonlost** requested Sam with his mother or father, Sam helping someone, mention of Sam's professional background, and no tears.

**T-Minus 1 hour 21 minutes**

"Are you nervous?"

Dolores met her husband's concerned gaze in the mirror. Their hotel suite had a well-appointed dressing room complete with vanity table, which meant Dolores hadn't had to wait for Paul to finish showering before doing her make-up. He stood behind her, fixing his tie, silver-blue silk to match his eyes. She was putting on the garnet earrings he gave her last week for her birthday. Forget the icy brilliance of diamonds -- Dolores preferred the warm, rich glow of her birthstone. "What makes you think I'm nervous? I'm not the one giving the big speech today."

"Well, it's just my observation," Paul said, bending to drop a kiss on her cheek, "that you don't usually take ten minutes to put on a pair of earrings. Right?"

Laughing abruptly, Dolores dropped the earrings back in their box and reached for his hand. She realised then that her palms were sweaty. "Okay, you caught me," she sighed. "I just keep thinking -- worrying -- what if I trip on the stairs? Do you know how many cameras will be there? What if people don't laugh at the jokes? Or, what if there's only _polite_ applause? You know he hates that!"

"Sweetheart, there's nothing to be nervous about. You'll be fine. And they love him. They think he's the best thing since sliced bread." He squeezed her hand. "I seriously doubt he's going to get a lukewarm reception -- certainly not today of all days." He picked up the garnet earrings to put them in her ears. "There. Gorgeous."

Reassured, at least for the time being, Dolores smiled radiantly at their reflection, then turned to give her husband a soft kiss on the lips. "Okay, then. I think we're good to go."

**T-Minus 20 years**

She picked up the phone while still half asleep. "'Lo?"

"Ana Maria Dolores, why didn't you tell me!"

"Mama?" Rolling over in bed, Dolores peered at the green glow of her digital alarm clock. She'd been asleep for less than an hour. "Mama, what's wrong? Why are you calling so late?"

"Wrong? There's nothing wrong, this is incredible! This is -- I have no words! But I don't see why you didn't tell me about it, your own mother -- you think I can't keep a secret? Hey? Ah, I'm too happy to be upset. ¡Dios! To think, our little Samuel, a member of the United States Congress. If only my Samuel could to see his grandson now, he would be so proud! But I should call Vera and Marcus, and Dr. Helen --"

"Mama, slow down, please." Her mother's excited babbling was making her head spin. "What's this about Sam?"

"On the television, didn't you watch the voting? The Democrats won!"

"I watched most of it," said Dolores, still confused but now wide-awake. "Everybody knew Bartlet was going to win, I don't see --"

"¡No, idiota! The Democrats won in Orange County! Didn't you see it? And Samuel is going to be the new congressman because that poor Horton Wilde died last week, God rest his soul."

Dolores shot up in bed. "Sam is going to be _what_??"

"You didn't know?"

Too shocked to answer, Dolores fumbled for the remote and turned on the small TV in the corner of her bedroom. The local news was still running the story.

"Dolores? Chica, are you still there?"

"¡Dios mío!"

Her mother huffed irritably in her ear. "They couldn't find a better picture of him to use? This one makes him look like the deer in the headlights."

 

**T-Minus 40 years**

"Honey? Honey, what's wrong? Can I come in?"

"I'm fine, Mom. Go away."

"You don't sound fine. Can I come in? I just want to talk to you."

"...yeah, okay."

"Thank you. Now tell me what happened at school that's got you so upset."

"It's nothing. Just stupid Billy picking on me again."

"He didn't hit you, did he? I want you to promise me that you'll tell your teacher right away if he ever hits you or anybody else. I'm not sending you to any school where the kids are like that."

"He didn't hit me -- he ruined my book!"

"Honey, I'm sure the school can get you a new one."

"It was _A Tale of Two Cities_. The one Dad gave me for my birthday."

"Oh, Sam, c'mere. I'm sorry about your book. Maybe I can fix it, if it's just the spine --"

"He flushed it down the toilet."

"Pendejo! I should beat him with a stick."

"Mom!"

"What? He deserves it."

"Naw, it's okay. When I become a rich and famous lawyer, I'll take him to court and sue the pants off him."

"You'll make him cry like a baby."  
**T-Minus 9 years**

Luisa was trying with all her six-year-old might to speak to her cousins in Spanish. She had apparently taken a page out of Sam's book, and had painstakingly written down on a small notepad exactly what she'd wanted to say: "Me nombran des-- después de mi grande-abuela. Ella canta y yoo-- yega-- _juega_ el piano. Tengo gusto de cantar y de yoo-- jugar los tambores."

Her cousins laughed, and one of the other little girls snatched the notepad out of her hand. "Hey, I need that!" Luisa wailed, clutching her sparkly pencil, a gift from a friend's birthday party.

"Angelica, be nice to your cousin," Dolores' mother said firmly, in that tone of voice which meant Or Suffer The Consequences. Dolores knew that tone of old, and so did Angelica, apparently. She linked arms with little Luisa, named after Great-grandma Luisa, she who must be obeyed, and the two girls skipped off, new best friends. The other kids followed along, down to the wet sand where the surf rolled gently onto the beach, the teenagers keeping an eye out for the young ones.

Sam and Elsie lay back on beach blankets with Dolores, the older women lounging comfortably in lawn chairs, enjoying the last warm days of November.

"We try to speak Spanish in the house," Elsie explained to the other women, looking apologetic. "But we forget, and it's easy to slip into English. And obviously my accent is different from Sam's, which only confuses her more."

Sam shrugged. "Amazingly enough, the Spanish kids shows seem to help a lot. And her spelling is excellent. Toby's very proud," he added with perfect deadpan.

"Better than yours, anyway," Elsie smirked, patting his stomach, still flat and mostly free of that middle-aged spread. He'd always had his mother's genes, or so Dolores liked to tell herself. Sam patted Elsie's slightly rounded belly in retaliation.

"Hey there, little guy," he said, ready and willing as always to ignore the fact that the little guy in question probably wasn't developed enough to pick up the sound waves of his voice. "You ready to be born yet? No? Well, that's okay, I can wait. We're going to have a brand-new nursery in our new house, ready for when you come out. I wanted to paint it myself, but your mom says we have staff to do that kind of stuff for us at the governor's mansion, and they know how to use the roller brushes. I know how to use them too, but your mom doesn't believe me."

Dolores shared a secret smile with Elsie, the two women amused and fond and proud of the man they both loved best in the world. Dork, Elsie said with the quirk of her lips. Definitely, said Dolores, rolling her eyes.

"Is Paul coming to the beach, or are we meeting him at the restaurant?" asked Sam, having concluded his quiet but playful conversation with Elsie's belly.

"He can't get off work until six, so probably the restaurant," said Dolores. "Oh, and we finally found a space for the gallery. It's actually only ten minutes from here."

"In LB?" Sam frowned. "I thought you were looking in Newport, so you could be sponsored by that country club you were talking about."

Dolores waved a hand at that. "Newport is too staid for my art," she said airily, her smile teasing and confident. "Laguna Beach has an artist tradition, and it'd be silly for me to ignore how much this place has influenced my work. Plus the grant, and what I have left from my last commission, we don't need to worry about corporate sponsors for a while."

"It sounds like you've got a handle on everything, Dolores," Elsie said approvingly.

Sam's frown smoothed out, and he smiled sheepishly at his mother. "You know what you're doing, Mom. As long as you're happy."

Dolores grinned at him, because she _was_.  
**T-Minus 1 hour 3 minutes**

"Brrr! Why do they have to do this in January?"

"I don't know, tradition? I hope the kids won't catch a cold."

"People shouldn't blindly follow tradition, you know. I say next time we do this in July. Make it a new tradition."

"Did you bring any tissues? Tommy always sneezes when the cold tickles his nose. I swear I put one of those little travel packs in my purse, but now I can't find it!"

"Relax, I'm sure Elsie remembered to bring tissues."

"¡Dios! Why can't it be over already?"  
**T-Minus 17 years**

Her son was a nervous wreck. Toby and Josh weren't much better, though at least Toby was merely pacing between the bathroom door and the bedroom window, mumbling his speech over and over. Distracting, but no material damage -- not like Josh's decimated boutonniere. Thank God for Donna. She'd assured Dolores that she had kept back extra boutonnieres, just in case.

"Stop fidgeting, Sam," she scolded him, straightening his ascot for the sixth time.

"Sorry, I'm just -- the ascot. Do you think it's a little much?" he asked, staring worriedly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The black tux, white dress shirt, and cream ascot gave him an elegant, old-world look -- or would have, if he'd only _relax_. "I should've gone for a regular tie. Not so pretentious. Or maybe a bow tie."

"Naw, then you'd look like a waiter," said Josh, bouncing on his toes.

Sam tried to tug on his collar again, but Dolores slapped his hand down. Hard. "Ow! Mom!"

Dolores sighed, near the end of her rope. "Sam, you look fine! Besides, it's too late now to change your mind."

"No, it's not, it's not too late," Josh exclaimed, bounding up, gesturing at the poor, maligned ascot. "We could order new ties! Just order them over the phone from a store or online, get them to courier it to us. We've got, uh," he checked his watch, then winced. "Okay, only twenty minutes. But some of these couriers are really fast."

Sam turned to Josh, clearly tempted, an expression of panicked hopefulness bringing worry lines to his forehead. His conflicted feelings over the ascot were not quite a proportional response to the dilemma at hand, and Dolores didn't need a degree in English lit to see the metaphor. She pleaded silently to Toby, but he shuffled back, reluctant to step in, so she turned to the third groomsman.

Will had been standing in a corner, at home in his tux and ascot in a way the others were not, watching Sam's meltdown with quiet calm, and something like acceptance. But now he stepped in front of Sam, laid his hands on Sam's shoulders.

"Sam, look at me," he commanded, keeping his eyes locked on Sam's. "The tie is fine. It's perfect. You've made your choice, and it's the right choice," he said firmly, sincerely. "You just need to relax, okay? Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Deep breath and -- three, two, one. Good." Will's reassuring tone and steady gaze worked like a charm, and Sam's entire body slowly loosened out, his shoulders dropping, his handsome face smoothing out with a happy smile.

"Thanks, Will."

Will smiled back warmly, that quiet calm in his brown eyes lending strength. "Hey, what are brothers for?"

Josh snorted, but Sam just grinned wider and spread his arms. "So tell me the truth, how do I look?"

"Less like a virgin in a whore house, but your smile is beginning to frighten me."

"Do you really need the flower thing in your lapel? I kind of killed mine."

"You look perfect, honey. Just perfect."

Will held his peace.  
**T-Minus 72 days**

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Mom?"

"I'm so proud of you. You're going to do great things."

"Thanks, Mom."  
**T-Minus 50 years**

"And Jenny's mom says some people go to school until they're _really_ old. And then they're doctors or lawyers. But I want to be a fireman." Sam pushed his firetruck up the side of the couch, then zoomed back down again, with appropriate accompanying siren noises.

"Yeah? You want to be a fireman?" Derek was sitting on the playroom floor, leaning back against the couch and occasionally acting as a mountain that the firetruck had to drive over. "You have to be really brave to be a fireman, you know."

From her seat in the armchair, Dolores eyed her husband with some concern. He'd been kind of depressed ever since his dad passed away two months ago, and now his work was becoming so busy he barely got to spend any time at home. But when he was home, he always tried to be cheerful and upbeat for Sam, and Dolores loved him all the more for how much he loved Sam.

"I'm brave!" Sam exclaimed, striking a strong-man pose. "I'm Superman!"

Derek laughed and pulled Sam into his lap, tickling him until Sam shrieked, his face red. "I thought you were a fireman!"

Sam hiccuped, still giggling, but he punched both fists in the air and pronounced to the world: "I'm going to be a fireman and Superman and the president of the United States!"  
**T-Minus 13 years**

Dolores came by with CJ close to noon, and Cathy waved them into Sam's office. "Did you want to come with?" CJ asked Cathy, who sat with one hand on the keyboard, the other holding a pen, and the phone wedged under her chin. "We're going for sushi. You look like you could use a break."

"Thanks, but I'm swamped. I get next Friday off, so I'll -- yes, the reception is black-tie," she said, switching conversations seamlessly when whoever was on the phone took her off hold. "He'll address the new education package, but not the small business initiative." Nose to the grindstone, Cathy just nodded when CJ waved and disappeared into the inner sanctum.

Sam was on the phone, too. "Look, the bill is crap, Josh, and you know it. You guys can do better than this." Sam glanced up from the crap bill -- Dolores assumed it was crap, at least, based on the red pen in the margins and Sam's fierce scowl -- and mouthed 'five minutes' to them.

"I have great respect for President Santos, but I can't agree with him on this one. The offsets aren't worth the -- no, I'm talking about the independent contractor rider. I'm not -- I'm not _siding_ with the Republicans, this isn't about taking sides." He blew out an exasperated breath and rolled his eyes at her. Dolores shrugged, not really sure why Josh and Sam were disagreeing on this particular issue, but figuring Sam would fill her in over lunch.

"That's because Ainsley is right! And I'm _not_ caving to my Republican demographic, I'm talking about what makes sense for everybody, the small businesses, the tax-payers, _and_ the White House. Josh, don't -- no, I agree. I'm just saying you don't want to sign something that's not worth the paper it's written on. Okay. Yeah, Monday's fine -- no, my two o'clock. Yeah, later."

Dolores grinned at his harassed expression, always pleased to see him so involved, so determined about the work he did as a congressman. She knew the job was exhausting, but Sam never complained, and Elsie seemed to derive as much energy and excitement from the job as he did. "How's politics?" she asked, starting off their ritual banter with an easy one.

"Frustrating, as always. I think I'm getting an ulcer."

CJ frowned. "Really?"

"No, not really. But it sounds good."

"So how's the bill?"

Sam snorted, and glanced at CJ. "Crap." She merely raised an eyebrow.

Delores smiled. "How's Josh?

"Josh is..." He paused, then said slowly, "Getting older. Getting tired. Courting a heart-attack."

"He's still got years and years of making politicians cry before he can retire," CJ protested. "Yeah, okay, he'd probably benefit from a nice long vacation. Somewhere warm, with a beach. And Amy and Donna and Joey all in bikinis, wrestling him down every time he reached for his cell phone."

Sam and Dolores looked at her askance.

"What? He'd enjoy it, is all I'm saying."

"I don't think those three in bikinis would help with the heart-attack, CJ. Is all _I'm_ saying."

"He's not that much older than you, honey."

"No, but I still have way more hair." He smirked at her.

"Hmph. How's Elsie?" she said. Building up to it.

Sam made his hand see-saw, blue eyes twinkling. "Mostly sunny with intermittent showers. Sunny days, she tries out new jokes on me. Rainy days, she speaks only in equations and lectures me on how we need to do more to encourage girls to study the hard sciences."

"Sounds like she's doing fine," Delores laughed. Then finally: "And how's the baby?"

His face broke out with a smile that was pure joy. "Beautiful, Mom. She's just... Beautiful."

CJ shook her head, bemused. "Come on, proud papa. I'll let you buy me a sake."  
**T-Minus 48 minutes**

"Mr. and Mrs. McGinnis? The procession to the podium will begin in three minutes. You'll be seated on the right, sixth row, first and second seats, with Mr. and Mrs. Seaborn to your immediate right."

Derek and Melissa were only a little ways down the corridor, both looking as nervous as she felt. They waved, but didn't come over, which was fine with Dolores. She had worked out a cease-fire with her ex-husband and his new wife years ago, and they'd even relaxed enough to share friendly conversation at the few joint family gatherings Sam insisted upon for the sake of the kids -- but it was a big day, an important day, and there was no need to tempt fate.

When the signal came to go up to the podium, she had managed to subdue most of her butterflies. Dolores clutched Paul's arm and followed two steps behind Derek and Melissa, their polite new shadows fading back. "I wish my dad could've been here to see this," she said as she stepped out into the cold January morning, the sun weakly warm on her face. She felt Paul freeze briefly when he caught his first glimpse of the mass of humanity spread out before them.

"Oh, my God." He looked more than a little shell-shocked.

"Don't be nervous, sweetheart," she teased, smiling out at the crowd, knowing the cameras would find her, and that her mother and sisters and aunts and every single person she knew back home had to be watching this. "Just keep smiling."

"Oh, my _God_." His lips barely moved, his voice was nearly inaudible, and he kept a relaxed, happy smile pasted on the whole time. A natural.

"You're doing fine, honey," she said fondly, so proud of him, so damn proud to be here this day. She nudged him into their row after Derek. "Here we go, we're good."

They sat quietly in their seats, exchanging only a few brief words with Derek and Melissa, shaking hands when Will and the other staff filed into the row in front of them. Dolores held hands with Paul and smiled, heart too full to speak.  
**T-Minus 22 years**

"Mom? Are you okay? Mom, Mom, stop crying. Please? I need you to stop crying, Mom, okay? Put Dad on the phone -- Mom. You have to stop now, Mom -- you're scaring me. Is Dad okay? Did something happen to him? Mom?"  
**T-Minus 2 years**

She and Donna took to calling it the Christmas conspiracy, though technically they weren't springing the trap until December 27. Elsie called it the You're All Insane But What The Hell conspiracy. Cathy called it the I'm Never Going To Get My Full Eight Hours Of Sleep Again, Ever conspiracy. The rest of them called it the Kick Sam's Ass Into Gear conspiracy.

The plan was simple.

Dolores invited Sam and Elsie and the kids home for Christmas. When Sam suggested that she and Paul come up to Sacramento instead, she hinted that his grandmother's health was in decline. (In truth, Abuela Luisa was ninety-six and as spry as ever.)

As part of the family, Will had a standing invitation to all family gatherings. On Christmas Eve he drove down from Springfield, Oregon -- alone. ("Stacy dumped me. She said I'm married to my job.") CJ and Danny, their closest neighbours, drove in from Los Angeles. Toby and Senator Wyatt bribed the twins, now sixteen and too cool for family vacations, to come along with promises of a side-trip to Tijuana (supervised by Sam's cousins). Donna and the Bartlets and Congressman Young had family obligations, but all promised to call and harass Sam long-distance. Josh and Amy could only get away from D.C. for two days, so they booked into a cheap hotel nearby. And if Dolores ever called Josh's room early in the morning and got Amy instead, she figured that wasn't anybody's business but their own.

Dolores had sent Sam out to buy more eggnog ("But you don't even like eggnog!" he'd protested.) to give everybody time to lay the ambush. He walked in the front door, took one look at Josh's bad poker face, and shook his head, grinning faintly. "You guys are kind of crazy, you know that?"

"That was pretty much my reaction," Elsie told him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "But, Sam, if you want to try, if this is something you want to do..." She leaned up to drop a soft kiss on his lips. "The kids and I are behind you all the way."

"I was going to retire," said Sam, doubt in his voice. "Spend more time with the family. Write books. Go sailing."

"Forget that," Toby snorted. "This is what's next."

CJ stepped forward. "You could do a lot of good, Sam. We could help you."

"Just call me Sancho," said Will, quirking a grin.

Sam stared at them, clearly poised to make the leap. "Education. The environment. The economy. Foreign policy."

"So, is that a yes?" asked Josh, his eyes bright and his smile even brighter. He looked ten years younger.

Hugging Elsie to his side, Sam studied the eager, determined faces around him, moved and humbled by their faith in him. There were a million reasons why he shouldn't do this, but -- well. It was too late, he was already moving forward, energised, ready for anything. He nodded once, decisively. "Let's talk about schools."  
**T-Minus 34 years**

"Shhhh, keep it down. My parents have the windows open."

"Here, I've got the door. You and Sarah get Mr. Light-weight back there."

"Okay, you grab his legs, I'll get his arms. On three: one – two – three!"

"Shit, he's _heavy_!"

"Less talk, more walk, Sarah!"

"I told you guys we shouldn't have let him have the tequila."

"C'mon, Jess. He only had, like," *huff* "two, three shots _max_."

"The guy has no tolerance."

"Jess," *huff* "move back, I don't want to drop him."

"You're too nice, Sam. It'd serve him right to get a few bruises, the jerk."

"Let it go, the puke'll wash out." *huff* "I think."

"Leather seats, Princeton. _Leather_."

"Sam, over here, on the," *huff* "couch."

"_God_." *huff* "That's it, Lyman, you're going on a diet."

"Not with the way he cooks. If it weren't for Chinese take-out, he'd probably -- shit."

"What -- oh. Mom. Hi."

"Hi, honey. Hi, girls."

"Uh, hey, Mrs. Seaborn. Sorry to wake you up."

"Really, _really_ sorry we woke you up. We were trying to be quiet, but uh, Josh is kind of, uh..."

"Yes, I can see that. Does he need a doctor?"

"Mom, no. He'll be fine, he just needs to sleep it off."

"Hmm. Girls, why don't you go ahead and use the guest bathroom? I left some toiletries in there for you, and Sam can bring your bags in from the car in the morning."

"Uh, sure thing, Mrs. Seaborn. Thanks."

"G'night, Mrs. Seaborn. Night, Sam."

"Good-night, girls."

"Mom, there's a perfectly reasonable explanation --"

"Sam."

"Sorry, Mom."

"The next time you and your friends drive down to T.J. for spring break, make sure you get Josh dried out _before_ you bring him home. ¿Comprendes?"

"Sí, Mama."

"Okay, then."

"Okay? Is that -- that's it? You're not grounding me?"

"Sam, you're twenty years old and you live in New Jersey. Of course I'm not grounding you."

"Oh. I knew that."

"Sure you did. Dork."

"Mo-om!"

"Stop whining and go to bed, honey. You'll wake your father."

"But -- Josh."

"Oh, fine, get your sleeping bag out. And bring down a blanket for Josh, it's a bit chilly in here."

"Yeah, okay. I should find him some aspirin, too."

"I'll get the aspirin. And in the morning, I can whip up an Aunt Vera Special."

"Aunt Vera Special? No. No way, you can't be _serious_. Do you _want_ Josh to shun me for the rest of my hopefully long, prosperous, and accident-free life?"

"Sam, honey, if a guy doesn't have the cojones to drink the Aunt Vera Special, then there's no way he's good enough for _my_ boy."

"..."

"Besides, it's good for what ails you."

"Mom..."

"I'm not marching in any parades, Sam. Now go get your sleeping bag."

"Love you too, Mom."  
**T-Minus 32 minutes**

Luisa and Tommy were escorted to their seats, and finally Elsie was announced, lovely and regal in her tailored cream overcoat, her hair pulled back in an elegant knot. Her smile was solemn and happy, her eyes kind and mischievous as ever. Then finally, finally -- Sam.

He stopped by her row and reached up to grip her hand. There wasn't much else he could do with the railing between them -- plus her seat was up on a raised platform. "I love you, Mom," he said, his beautiful blue eyes shining with love and gratitude.

Derek leaned past Paul to grab onto Sam's other hand. "We're so proud of you, Sam," he said, only the faintest quaver in his voice. "We love you."

"Thanks, Dad. I love you, too." And then there was no more time, and Sam started to pull away.

Dolores clutched his hand tighter, and spoke quickly, from the heart. "You're the real thing, Sam. Go make history."

His smile for her was beautiful. And so he went.  
**T-Minus 54 years**

The nurse who brought Sam in for the two o'clock feeding was an older Hispanic woman whose no-nonsense manners and twinkling brown eyes reminded Dolores of her aunt Vera -- with more tact. "Here, chica, just keep your arm curved like that," she said, her voice low, mindful of Derek snoring in the guest chair. "Good, just like that."

"Grazias," said Dolores, shifting her grip to hold the baby more securely. "I'm pretty new at this. He's our first." She smiled softly down at her little Samuel.

"He's a beautiful child," the nurse said, nodding approvingly. "Every baby is a miracle, a gift from God. But some newborns, not so pretty as others. Yours is already beautiful. He will make some women very happy one day," she teased.

Dolores chuckled. "He takes after my side of the family, then."

The nurse glanced over at Derek. "The gringo is your husband?"

So, okay. About as much tact as Aunt Vera.

"My dad is a gringo, too," she shot back, a dare. She tried glaring but the nurse seemed impervious, and Sam was making tiny smacking sounds as he fed. Dolores gazed down at him, captivated. "He has blue eyes, my Sam. Samuel Norman Seaborn -- I named him after my dad and my husband's dad."

"Ah! I won't say a word," the nurse sighed dramatically. Clearly she shared the same opinion Dolores' mother and aunts had on the matter of 'Norman'. "I like Samuel. 'Aconteció que al cumplirse el tiempo, después de haber concebido Ana, dio a luz un hijo, y le puso por nombre Samuel, diciendo: Por cuanto lo pedí a Jehová.' It's a good name, but a lot of responsibility. Much to live up to."

Dolores lifted her chin, dead certain of the potential in the small, precious bundle of humanity in her arms. "He'll do great things. You'll see."  
**T-Minus 0 minutes**

"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God."

**Author's Note:**

> **T-Minus 9 years** \- "I'm named for my great-grandmother. She sings and plays the piano. I like to sing and play the drums."  
> **T-Minus 40 years** \- _pendejo_: a stupid person; a dumbass; creep.  
> **T-Minus 34 years** \- Sarah is Miss Sarah Wissinger, she of the $1189 Viennatelli silk smoking jacket and $345 antique scrimshaw cigarette holder. Any other minor characters you don't recognise are of my own creation.  
> **T-Minus 54 years** \- The nurse quotes 1 Samuel 1:20 from the Spanish translation [Reina-Valera, 1960](http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Samuel%201;&version=60;). "So in the course of time Hannah conceived and gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel, saying, 'Because I asked the LORD for him.'"  
> **She spake in her heart** \- The title comes from [1 Samuel 1:13](http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Samuel%201&version=9), King James Version. "Now Hannah, she spake in her heart; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard: therefore Eli thought she had been drunken."  
> **Ana Maria Dolores** \- _Ana_ is Spanish for _Anna_ or _Hannah_; _Dolores_ means "sorrows", taken from the Spanish title of the Virgin Mary _María de los Dolores_, meaning "Mary of Sorrows"; Hannah, the mother of Samuel, is "a woman of a sorrowful spirit" (1 Samuel 1:15).


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